The Sons of the Dying Gods
by The Ilongo
Summary: The Ilongo's first serious short story: The Xel'Naga witness their death to their creation of unexpected evil. It's going to PG, as I don't think death and destruction belong to G-ratings. Read and Review, but most importantly, Enjoy! -The Ilongo.
1. Foreword & Prologue

_The Ilongo_ in "The Sons of the Dying Gods"  
  
FOREWORD  
  
I do not know how many stories out there focus on the Xel'Naga as a main character, but I do not remember that many. I am sure there are quite a number of them, but they probably turn out sounding like the manual. Sadly, to some writers, copying word by word is an unavoidable void of talent, but I instead want to go back in the game's history and change facts into literature. Here I retell the story of Pre-_StarCraft_, but I add my own serious flavor, an idea that has been boiling in my head for sometime: the intense story before and during the destruction of the Xel'Naga, all beginning with the creation of the evil Zerg....  
  
This chapter is but a prologue, so it will be relatively shorter than my future chapters (funny, it's shorter than the foreword too). So without further ado, here is Blizzard's _StarCraft_ in "The Songs of the Dying Gods." Enjoy and review!  
  
**"The Sons of the Dying Gods"**  
  
PROLOGUE:  
  
In a quest for power, in vain hopes to be gods, living deities, we have created a monster so strong . . . so evil. I should have seen this from the beginning. I should have known all this time that playing god would be the end of my people. Now our legacy is death. My people's Children are forever under an eternal curse, doomed to universal, galactic violence. What of my people? We die.  
The doom of our people is that vile creature which calls itself a _dyeus_, a god. Centuries ago, our firstborn, the Protoss, seemed the culmination of all our "godlihood." They were already so advanced as a species; we believed they only needed perfection. Yet they failed us. They failed to strengthen that psychic bond time granted them after eons of evolution . . . so we began anew. So we founded the Zerg. We had looked for a species that compared to the Protoss, but naught appeared . . . until we discovered a most insignificant arthropod on that planet, that future Hell.  
Hell is an appropriate description for what was before and what is now. We intensely labored, sacrificing both time and health by our lust of power, to culture the strangest adaptation of those primitive worms, an ancient form of extrasensory perception. Thus began our downfall, our death. After centuries of tiring physical labor and psychic meditation to transform the zerg into an intelligent people, they took an unexpected turn for the worse, for . . . evil.  
We thought we were gods. We believed we could control life itself. Now there is no more time. Death approaches. The _dyeus_, this Overmind, calls to us, the last survivors of the Xel'Naga. I can feel its wrath, its unfathomable anger, its psychic waves burning their patterns into my skull. The emotion it pours into my mind is horrible; it is hell. My mind burns and flames, anger flowing from the Overmind as lava from a volcano, melting everything in its path. The steaming magma of hatred incinerates my mind. I am no more. 


	2. Genesis

Hi again! This is the Ilongo. If you are a fan (?, I have a fan!), I'm sorry that I haven't submitted any works recently. I've been preoccupied with high school finals and graduation and all. Anyways, quite a few of you seem to have enjoyed my prologue. I hope you enjoy this new update.  
  
THE SONS OF THE DYING GODS  
  
By your Ilongo  
  
Genesis  
  
At the beginning of time, Pserion, the Master of Lore, existed at the center of all nothingness. He spoke to the nothingness and told it the universe's first story. As he spoke into the abyss, what was in the story came to be. Suns formed. Masses of mineral ore collided together, molding the planets. Countless millennia passed, and soon, the primeval rains fell for the very first time, filling the cracks and ravines of the planets with oceans. The Pserion paused, remembering all that has happened before his eyes. "Good. All is as I want, yet I have nothing but the Abyss as a friend. I will continue this tale." Pserion spoke about the beginning of life on the myriad earths in the universe. Falling amongst the primeval rains, his words nourished the grounds, and life sprung from every drop. Soon, hundreds of planets scattered across the large universe began teeming with life. Oceans, skies, and forests filled with varieties of many creatures. Pserion saw the beauty of his creation and descended to the world.  
  
The Master of Lore settled upon the most beautiful planet he had created, the one he had made to be both throne and home, the planet Xel'Naga. Here, Pserion lived. The mountains became his royal seat, the canyons his footstool. "Yet," He said, "I am still alone." The deity scanned all species of the world until he found similar to him in shape and curiosity. Out of all species, this was closest to the divine shape. Unlike many creatures, this species stood tall on two legs, their height seven feet high on average. They had smooth grey skin, large black eyes, a very thin body, and especially unlike most animals, their two forward limbs were versatile arms, able to manipulate the environment. Pserion declared, "These are the greatest of my creatures, and shall thus inherit the name of my throne planet. They are," he finished, "the Xel'Naga."  
  
The Xel'Naga were by nature a peaceful race, but their greatest mindset was their curiosity. Pserion honored this as their greatest quality as a people, a characteristic fostering self-drive and self-improvement. Finally, Pserion had a people worthy as listeners to his great tales of truth and wonder. The Master revealed himself to them, and from that moment on, Pserion taught and guided the Xel'Naga in all their doings. He spoke to them in the spiritual tongue, what the Xel'Naga revered generations after as "psychic thought." It was this power that Pserion valued the greatest of all. With psychic thoughts, the Xel'Naga stayed in constant communication with the Master of Lore, listening to his stories.  
  
Thousands of years had passed. During this time the Xel'Naga developed wondrous technologies. By coupling the magnificence of their space mechanics and their powerful psychic communication, the Xel'Naga explored the deepness of space, setting foot upon multiple worlds. The splendor of life thriving on numerous worlds tempted their hearts. Already far advanced in the field of biomedical engineering, the Xel'Naga had done all, their life spans longer than once normal. However, the great people wondered if they could do the same and more to other species of life. Curiosity became a burning want, and want became insatiable desire. On that historic day, every single Xel'Naga was on the home planet. No one refused to be apart from their comrades as science was on the verge of new discovery and opportunity. Around the globe, Xel'Naga rejoiced as they created the very first tripod creature. All rejoiced, but Pserion wept.  
  
Pserion called to the Xel'Naga. In their minds, his voice rung, "My sorrow is wet with tears, yet it burns with anger. How can you change the very words of the Author's story, My story?"  
  
All the Xel'Naga around the globe felt this hot, bitter question press on their hearts. Put between their Creator and their creation, the Xel'Naga became horribly numb to the viciousness of their folly. They had played gods, but they instead of acknowledging this truth, they furiously believed that Pserion had lied to them all through the ages, withholding from them that they could do so much more, that they could be Pserion. No Xel'Naga replied to Pserion, the Master of Lore, yet they did not need to do so. Pserion could read their hearts clearly, and the Xel'Naga knew this.  
  
In the great, global sea of their forum of psychic thought, all felt a ripple at the edge of their minds. At first, it was but a ripple, just a single Xel'Naga having trouble with his situation. The ripple began to strengthen, and what was at first a mere ripple of confusion became strong feelings of rebellion. At its source was the voice of a solitary Xel'Naga. "I am Fristan, the head scientist of the Proto-genetic Engineering Project. Pserion, for years you have held yourself as the Author of the Universe, the Master of Lore. We simply want to do as you have done, create and spread the gloriousness of life." As Fristan spoke, the various ripples throughout the Xel'Naga's mind-forum began to focus. Xel'Naga across the globe felt the power of Fristan's beliefs and joined him. Fristan continued, "If you do not want us to do the good that you have done for us, then we need you no longer, Pserion."  
  
Once Fristan finished, the world's sky darkened into a dull grey. "So be it," boomed the voice of Pserion.  
  
Fristan's eyes widened with fear. "What is this!" exclaimed the boastful Xel'Naga. Fristan looked at his colleagues beside him, all the workers of the great Proto-engineering experiment. "You heard him too! Not by thought, but literally ... You did!"  
  
Across the grey sky, the booming voice of Pserion's anger thundered. All Xel'Naga were petrified in fear—never before has Pserion spoken on the physical plane. "I, Pserion, Master of Lore, have long foreseen the possibility of a Decree. I believed that you would have become intelligent enough to avoid its necessity, but now, I must punish your folly. All Xel'Naga, you have done what you should have known the whole time belongs only to me, your god."  
  
Fristan challenged the Deity (a foolish act indeed), "We are the gods now." However, Pserion continued, completely ignoring the fact that Fristan had blasphemed.  
  
"As the Master of the World, I shall speak of the First Decree, and all existence will obey my words. Xel'Naga, both people and planet, you have forgotten that I am the Author of the Universe. Though you dare to usurp my authority, I will let you continue your works because I know you are a good people, but hear this. Your curiosity is your downfall. You will see that your mission to create the perfect life-form is in vain. You will discover nothing but pain and suffering. I leave you to discover this on your own. As for now, this haven I have chosen among the stars, your home- world, is no more. Leave my planet. This is the last time we shall speak until the End of Events has come."  
  
For a fleeting moment, Fristan and the Xel'Naga seemed stoic, like the heroes of old sagas. Yet fear had broken into their minds and interrupted their great mind-forum. Voices from across the world could be felt from the minds of all others. They cried, "I ... I feel ... empty. Pserion has left us!" Whatever sense of joy and content the Xel'Naga felt from psychic thought vanished. All that was left in their minds was their treacherous curiosity, and a strange new feeling, the nothingness. Desire and longing in vain replaced the happiness felt in their communion with their Master.  
  
Fristan focused and concentrated, speaking to the rest of the world. He said, "My people, this Decree of Pserion has begun a new age for us Xel'Naga. We can now travel to the stars and perfect a sentient race. Those who disagree, listen to me. This ... nothingness we feel is a despair that will consume our lives. We have no choice but to find or create a race able to share our psychic thoughts. I see no other way to satiate this numb pain (How oxymoronic.). We must do what we can to survive without Pserion, lest this gift, the voice of Pserion himself, go to waste. This is all we have left of our fulfilling past. Let us find a species to share our future."  
  
Thus, Pserion had left the Xel'Naga until the End of Events. With their loss of Pserion's voice, the great throne planet did not appeal to them, despite its magnificent beauty. Their sin had blinded them of the world's contentment. They constructed massive space machines called World Ships, giant arks that would carry them and a sample of each Xel'Naga species into space. After months of sadness under a grey sky, the Xel'Naga began their exodus.  
  
Now orbiting one of the moons of the planet, the World Ships seemed to have paused to recollect and reminisce, getting one good look at their planet. From the head World Ship, the Ark, Fristan stared at the planet. "Is this what we have come to, Pserion?" the people thought together. "Please, speak to us one last time ... please." The people waited a second, a minute, an hour, and then a day. Nothing stirred but the grey clouds covering their home-planet. Finally, something strange began to happen.  
  
The planet's grey clouds blackened further and further, until nothing could be seen of the planet, only a strange circle of blackness where no stores shown. The black planet began to glow a strange blue color. Fristan stared at their warped world. "What is going on here?" A blue aura outlined the solid black sphere—it was a blue circle in the middle of space. Then, a faint light appeared in the center of the blue circle, becoming brighter and brighter until it was a bright band of glowing light. Fristan called to his subordinate. "I do not recognize any constellations in these stars. What is this? Bring up our most complete star map now!" Ten minutes later, Fristan finished studying the map while conversing with an astronomy expert psychically. "So, our world has become a portal to a new galaxy," Fristan thought.  
  
He paused for a minute or two, staring at what was a swirling stream of light, apparently made from billions upon billions of stars. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, speaking all Xel'Naga. "Friends, let us leave for good. There is nothing for us here, but this sign. Our salvation lies in the stars." Fristan opened his eyes and manipulated several dials and switches. The Ark and the other World Ships headed toward the blue circle. As the last World Ship entered, the circle of blue light shrunk and faded until it was no more but a blue orb in the middle of space, shining like beautiful crystal. Finally, it faded into nothingness.  
  
Fristan thought to himself, "Innumerable planets and myriad life-forms all await the hand of the Xel'Naga. We will find a new home-world, and we will select a people to be our own, a perfect, sentient race. We are this galaxy's new gods."  
  
Back in the Xel'Naga home-solar system, on a cold, desolate moon void of air, a strange wisp of dust seemed to blow about the ground, as if a wind was present. "Salvation will not be found in the stars, but it will be decided by the two feuding sons. Farewell, Xel'Naga. May you realize what will happen before it is too late to avoid the inevitable."  
  
The Ilongo: Wow, did I really write that much? I've written myself tired. Remember to review, as I'd like to know how the story was. Stay tuned for the next chapter: Exodus. 


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